


When He Loved Me

by ghstgrl



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Gay, Heathers - Freeform, LGBT, M/M, OC, Original Character - Freeform, jason dean - Freeform, jd - Freeform, nate westin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghstgrl/pseuds/ghstgrl
Summary: Jason Dean and Nate Westin are just going through the motions. Although they have very different lives, one element is the same in both: their lives are static. Everything is always the same. Jason's always moving from town to town, and Nate doesn't have much to do in the small town of Goldpark, Wisconsin. But when their paths cross, their lives are changed forever.





	1. 1

_**September 11, 1987** _

 

The narrow halls of Goldpark High were swarming with students who were either standing around and trying to talk, or trying to get to their next class. Jason Dean was trying to do neither. 

No, he was heading towards the front doors, towards the parking lot, and to his motorcycle. From there he would continue to the 7/11 on the corner of Diamond and Settler for his lunch, which he had unfortunately forgotten to bring that day. 

Jason hefted his ratty old backpack, looked around at all the students, and refrained from rolling his eyes. In his perspective, high school was an idiotic caste system of hopelessness, with desperate teenagers always trying to claw their way to the top. How they fared now would turn out to be how they fared in actual real life, too, and Jason thought that was absolutely ridiculous. So he was going to get a Slushie instead of hanging around this dump. 

As Jason neared the front doors to the school, a small commotion caught his attention. Some big guys wearing baseball jackets - presumably the athletes of the school - were harassing a more wiry boy with a defiant expression on his face. 

Now, this wasn’t to say the boy wasn’t muscular - although Jason couldn’t exactly tell, because the boy was wearing a long, dark trench coat that hid most of his body’s shape. The boy was incredibly handsome, with smooth, lightly tanned skin, bright blue eyes, and a pretty nose. His strawberry blonde hair was clipped short at the back and sides, and messy and untamed at the top. He wore black studs in his ears, and his lips looked soft. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows, darker than his hair, were arched in a sarcastic, condescending manner. 

“Answer him, freak!” Jason heard one of the jocks say as he drew closer. Jason really did roll his eyes this time at the simple fact that all schools were all the same. Jocks always looked and sounded identical, and this was something that Jason highly doubted would ever change. 

One of the jocks grasped the front of the boy’s coat and tugged him forward slightly, glaring into his face. The boy’s shirt rode up and a strip of his toned stomach was exposed. Jason felt his eyes draw to the spot automatically. 

“Hey, man, let go of me,” the boy said, a warning note in his voice. The big lug snickered and shook him slightly by the collar of his coat. The boy frowned. “Don’t touch my coat, man, I’m warning you.” 

The bully laughed and spat in his face, and the boy froze before closing his eyes slowly and exhaling deeply. 

“Lovely,” he said before his arm shot up and wedged itself against the side of the jock’s face for leverage. The jock let go of him, and the boy used this opportunity to sweep his leg behind the jock’s knees, making him fall on his back. In three seconds flat, the bully was floored and had the breath knocked out of him, and the boy was standing over him, not even having broken a sweat. Jason was impressed, to say the least. 

Before the other jock could react, the boy grinned impishly - he had dimples! - and tore off back down the school corridor, his long trench coat flapping behind him like a cape as he wiped the side of his face. The boy accidentally knocked into Jason’s shoulder as he passed, but he apparently didn’t notice, because he kept going. Jason watched after him with piqued interest. 

He wanted to know more about this firecracker boy.


	2. 2

_**September 12, 1987** _

 

Nate Westin was in trouble. 

The thing about that was, he was  _ always _ in trouble. He’d spent years dealing with bullies and ne’er-do-wells, and usually that meant he got detention for three hours on Saturdays. This Saturday was no different, and he’d just spent an agonizing three hours in detention with the only other kid who was there, Adelaide Spankton. If her name wasn’t unfortunate enough, her mannerisms were: she had a tendency to eat her own boogers, which was, presumably, the worst thing Nate had ever seen in his entire life. 

So now, he was trying to unwind with some donuts and maybe a Slushie at 7/11. The weather was getting colder, and Nate was thankful for his warm trench coat. He’d bought it at a thrift store years ago with the first allowance he’d ever gotten, and it had been his most prized possession ever since. He wore it everywhere - in fact, he didn’t think his friends had ever even seen him without it. 

The bell above the convenience store door dinged behind Nate as he entered, on the hunt for some goodies to revitalize his will to live. After watching Adelaide Spankton for three hours in equal amounts of disgust and horrified awe, he was ready to drown his thoughts and feelings in junk food for the rest of his natural-born life. 

As he was prowling the candy aisle, he heard the bell ding a second time, and he looked up to see who had entered. 

It was a boy, with rosy skin and freckles dotting his face and neck. He had soft-looking medium brown hair with a few highlighted sprigs up top, pushed back with mousse. The boy was a few inches shorter than Nate, had arched eyebrows, and a small smirk was forming on his face as he looked up at Nate. The boy adjusted his worn, brown leather jacket and leisurely sidled over. 

“That was pretty, ah,  _ intense _ yesterday in the hallway. You a ninja or somethin’?” The boy asked as he gave Nate a once-over. Nate smirked as well and raised an eyebrow.

“Greetings and salutations! Not a ninja, but thanks for asking. And that’s a pretty good Jack Nicholson impression, too,” Nate said, and the boy laughed and ducked his head. 

“Actually, that’s just my voice. But I’m honored,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Nate smiled and went back to looking for donuts, bending down to look at the lower shelves. He grabbed a package and straightened up, adjusting his trench coat as he did so.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” Nate said, cocking an eyebrow down at the boy, who looked up and gave a half-smile. 

“Ah, well, that’s probably because you haven’t. I’m new - just moved here a week or so ago,” he said,  and Nate nodded. 

“Sick! Welcome to Goldpark. Did you live in Wisconsin before, or…?” Nate asked, and the boy shook his head. 

“Nah, this is all new for me. My dad and I tend to move around a lot; he owns a company that keeps us on our toes. However, it never fails to amaze me that every town we move to has a 7/11 exactly like this. Everywhere we go starts to run together after a while,” the boy said, and Nate chuckled. 

“Must be rough, moving from place to place. Hopefully this town will be different than the others you’ve seen,” Nate said, and the boy smirked up at him, his gaze slightly flirtatious. 

“It already is,” he said simply, and Nate flushed, not sure if the boy meant him or something else. However, he chuckled to brush off the awkwardness that had filled the silence betwixt them. 

“Well, that’s, um, that’s good. You, uh...you in here for donuts, too?” Nate asked, still somewhat flustered as he held up the sweets package slightly, and the boy chuckled slightly. 

“Nah, I was actually in here to grab a Slushie. They’re kind of my passion,” the boy said, smirking, and Nate laughed. 

“Mine too, actually. I was thinking of getting one. By the way, I don’t think I caught your name,” Nate said, and the boy chuckled, scratching the back of his head. 

“Ah, that’s ‘cause I didn’t throw it. Jason Dean,” the boy, Jason, said as he smirked teasingly. “What’s your flavor? Mine’s cherry.” Jason said, holding out his hand, and Nate took it, smiling. Jason’s hand was warm, a comfort to Nate’s own freezing fingers. 

“Nate Westin. And I’m more of a fan of Big Blue here,” Nate said, gesturing over to the blue raspberry flavor. Jason smiled, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, then, allow me,” he said, and walked over to the Slushie machine. He started filling a cup, and Nate raised an eyebrow. 

“No, no, allow  _ me,” _ Nate said, and began filling his own cup with cherry Slushie. Jason laughed softly as he looked up, the cup of blue raspberry Slushie in his hand. As Nate looked down at his new friend, he noticed something glinting on Jason’s ears: two small gold hoop earrings.

“Those are cool,” Nate said, gesturing to the earrings, and Jason chuckled self-consciously as he brushed one with his fingertips. 

“Yeah, I, ah - I wanted to get my ears pierced a couple years ago. I thought these were kind of neat.” 

“They look good on you,” he said simply as he brought the Slushie to the counter. Jason chuckled a little bit again as he walked up beside Nate at the counter. Nate stole a glance at Jason and saw that he was blushing, making his already pink cheeks even more flushed. 

They bought their Slushies and then traded once they got outside. Nate chuckled as Jason handed him his. 

“Wow, sick bike,” Nate said, gesturing to the motorcycle they were heading towards. Jason nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. 

“Yep, got it through my dad’s work. One of the perks,” Jason said, sitting on the black leather seat of the bike to sip his drink. 

“Oh, really? What does your dad do, then? Does he own a motorbike company or somethin’?” Nate asked, grinning, and Jason laughed, shaking his head. 

“No, um, he owns a construction company. Big Bud Dean’s Construction. ‘Bringing Every State to a Higher State,’” Jason said, and a look of recognition passed across Nate’s face. 

“Ohh! Right, of course. Dean. Right,” Nate said, taking another sip of his Slushie. Jason chuckled again as he took a sip of his own drink, his hazel eyes tracking the movement of Nate’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. 

Nate didn’t notice.


	3. 3

_**September 25, 1987** _

 

It had been two weeks since Jason had met Nate, and he was becoming more and more intrigued with this boy every day. 

Because Nate was  _ interesting _ \- he wasn’t like any other teenager that Jason had ever met. And it wasn’t even that he’d had a particularly interesting life - he was just... _ different. _ It was almost like he had some sort of awareness that was unbeknownst to other, more general, more unsuspecting high-schoolers. Jason couldn’t quite figure Nate out. 

Jason studied Nate’s profile as he took notes from the blackboard: his eyes darted around constantly, seemingly unconsciously picking up information from the board, and from the general environment. His eyelashes, which were so long and lush, brushed his cheeks as he looked down at his paper. His smooth nose, slightly pointed and almost ski-jump, crinkled unconsciously as he made a mistake, scratched it out, rewrote it. His soft lips parted slightly as he concentrated, his pink tongue pressed between his straight, white teeth as he copied from the board. 

Jason was, to say the least, entranced, so much so that he missed the teacher calling on him. 

“Jason Dean! What were the main points of the economy in ancient Rome?” 

Jason slowly turned his gaze up toward the teacher, Ms. Munger, who was looking at him with a mixed expression of both patronization and frustration. 

“Ah...sorry, teach. It seems I wasn’t paying attention,” Jason said, and through his peripheral vision he saw Nate glance over at him. 

“Too busy gawking at Mr. Westin, were you, Mr. Dean?” Ms. Munger asked, her eyes full of a cold, burning triumph. The class laughed nastily, and Jason heard several whispered slurs thrown at him. A fire of its own entered Jason’s hazel eyes, and he stared back at his teacher, a calm, blank mask of an expression on his face. He narrowed his eyes at Ms. Munger, who sneered. 

“An hour of detention after school today, Mr. Dean,” she said, an awful, evil grin twisting her face. Jason slowly leaned forward in his seat, never breaking eye contact with her as he folded his hands on his desk. 

“Gladly,” he said quietly, an undertone of something dangerous in his voice. 

~~~

Jason threw open the front doors of school, his ratty backpack swinging wildly behind him as he stormed down the front steps of the school, irritation and anger coursing through his bloodstream. For the whole hour he’d spent after school in detention, Ms. Munger had just talked about how he should be paying more attention in class and “for God’s sakes, Mr. Dean, don’t waste your life away staring at good-for-nothing boys.” 

Jason had spent that time thinking instead of ways he’d like to rid the world of this teacher’s influence, and how unfortunate it was that he hadn’t had the opportunity while in her presence. Luckily, she’d left the room for a minute and he’d been able to steal an expensive-looking necklace off of her desk that he was sure would fetch at least $100 if he sold it. That had made Jason feel a little better, but he was still positively enraged, and he scowled as he thought of Munger’s smug face. The world would be better without her here, he was sure of it. 

His vexation was soothed slightly as he took notice of Nate leaning on the school fence, his skateboard next to him and his trench coat wrapped loosely around him as he looked out at the early beginnings of a sunset. 

“You’re still waiting for me? It’s late,” Jason said as he approached, and Nate chuckled, still looking at the sunset. 

“‘Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, and as he turned his head, Jason tried to arrange his face into something a little more tranquil. He must have still looked strained, though, because Nate frowned when he caught sight of Jason’s expression. 

“Don’t let her get to you,” he said immediately, and Jason raised an eyebrow. “Munger loves to...get a rise out of students. She has a reputation. Torturing students is her passion, but if she doesn’t get a reaction from you, she’ll leave you alone. Believe me, she always picks at least one student each year to hate specifically.” 

Jason thought about this for a second, and then nodded. One of the things he liked about Nate was the fact that he was always ready to offer advice and help out. He didn’t ask questions. It was like he already knew what Jason was going to say before he said it. 

He leaned against the fence next to Nate and let their sleeves brush together. Nate didn’t seem to notice - he was again gazing at the sunset - but Jason felt a small lightning bolt strike his heartstrings. The cool September breeze blew against their faces, and the fir trees surrounding their school were silhouetted black against the apricot and peach sky, which was streaked with pale clouds and flecked with a few early stars. 

“The sunsets here are wicked, don’t you think?” Nate asked quietly, still looking out at the horizon. He took one of his hands out of the pocket of his black trench coat and absently fiddled with his right stud earring as he finally turned to look over at Jason with a lopsided grin on his face and those sweet dimples in place. 

“Pretty wicked,” Jason said as he looked up at Nate, smiling with an eyebrow raised, a hint of good-natured sarcasm in his voice. Nate laughed quietly and looked down at his shoes self-consciously. He tugged on his earring a few more times before letting go. 

“Hey, do you have a watch?” Nate asked suddenly, and Jason held out his wrist. 

“Yeah, here. What, you gotta get home for dinner or somethin’?” Jason asked as Nate grasped his wrist to read his watch. 

“Oh, you’re left-handed,” Nate noticed, and Jason chuckled. “But to answer your question: yes, I have to be home for dinner. I gotta motor if I wanna get there before my mom decides to give me a royal ass-whooping. Sorry about that, Jason,” Nate said, and Jason was surprised to see he actually looked genuinely regretful. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Maybe we can go get a Slushie sometime tomorrow.” Jason said, slightly disappointed that the peaceful spell was broken. However, Nate grinned happily. 

“I’d like that.” He said as he threw down his skateboard and quickly pushed off.

As he watched Nate round the corner and skate out of sight, his coat flying behind him, Jason realized that he wasn’t quite as angry anymore.


	4. 4

_**September 26, 1987** _

 

Nate sipped off his Slushie as he looked around Jason’s house, which was big but also rather...empty. The ceilings soared high overhead, and yet there wasn’t much furniture at all, making the house seem cavernous. There were a few unpacked moving boxes sitting around, which made Nate wonder how recently they had actually moved in. He smiled politely, however, and admired the crystal chandelier hanging from the lower part of the ceiling, above the TV. 

_ “Mi casa es su casa,” _ Jason said with a joking smirk, spreading his arms to gesture around at the house. Nate chuckled, stuffing one of his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. Just then, an older man, probably around age 60, walked through the doors leading to what Nate assumed was the kitchen. 

“Hey, there, Dad! You didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend over,” the man said, and Jason chuckled. Nate frowned in confusion. That was Big Bud Dean, and therefore Jason’s father. But why was he calling his son ‘Dad’?

“Ah, sorry, son. This is Nate. Nate, this is my dad.” Jason said, and clapped a warm hand on Nate’s shoulder. Hmm, so it must be a weird dynamic between them or something. Nate smiled as politely as he could at Mr. Dean, who gave a smile back. There was something odd about the older man’s smile, though. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“It’s a pleasure, Nate,” Mr. Dean said, holding out a hand. Nate shook it, and then Mr. Dean started talking about something that happened at his work, some contractor who apparently wasn’t willing to partner up with his company. Jason sat down on the beat-up leather couch to listen to his dad, who was walking on a treadmill that was set up next to the aforementioned couch. 

Nate threw out his finished Slushie in a nearby trash can and sat down next to Jason, adjusting his coat as he did so. He sort of tuned out what Mr. Dean was saying, but snapped back into focus when he heard his name. 

“Sorry, what?” Nate asked, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously. Mr. Dean gave that smile again, that weird one. 

“Son, why don’t you ask your...friend to stay for dinner?” He said, and Nate froze. 

“Um, I’d love to and all, but I’d need to call my mom first and I don’t know if you guys have a phone yet or anything. She might say no, too,” Nate said quickly. He half-wanted to stay for dinner to hang out with Jason, but Jason’s dad freaked him out. It was the dilemma of the ages. 

“We have a phone,” Jason said, standing up. “I’ll show you where it is.” 

Nate hesitated, then smiled and nodded. Perhaps he would just have to be as nice as possible to Jason’s father and spend most of his time in Jason’s room, away from Mr. Dean. 

~~~

“Aw, you have a hamster! It’s really cute,” Nate said, bending over to put his finger through the bars of the metal cage in Jason’s bedroom. The hamster came over and sniffed at Nate’s fingertip, then relaxed as he scratched its little head. Jason chuckled. 

“Yeah, his name’s Slushie. I got him when I’d first discovered how great those things are, and so I named him after them,” Jason said as he walked over. He bent down next to Nate to look at the little animal. “We can take him out, you know.” 

“Oh, really?! Awesome,” Nate said, standing back so Jason could reach inside the cage. He brought the hamster out and handed it to Nate, who cradled it gently as it squeaked softly. Nate grinned down at it. 

“Hi, Slushie,” he greeted it quietly. Jason chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “How old is he?” 

“Oh, about a year or so. They don’t live very long,” Jason said, and Nate looked down at the little creature. 

“Oh. Well, for however old he is in human years, he’s awfully cute,” Nate said, and Jason chuckled, his earring glinting in the lamplight. 

“I don’t usually take him out of his cage. You’re a special occasion,” Jason said, and Nate laughed, feeling his cheeks flush. He glanced down at Jason and saw that his cheeks were a little red, too. “Dinner’s probably almost ready, we should go down.” 

“Yeah,” Nate said, giving Slushie’s head a few more scratches before depositing the hamster back into his cage. “What was your dad making again?” 

Jason made a face as they went downstairs. “Tuna-and-cucumber casserole. It’s the only thing he knows how to make. Usually we order pizza or go out for dinner or something, because, well -,” Jason broke off, gesturing aimlessly with his hands, “- this is a monstrosity, really. He calls it watercress soup, and it’s essentially a bunch of green beans floating around in gravy with some seasoning. I usually pretend to eat it, and I’d advise you to do the same, unless you want to be wiping vomit out of all the nooks and crannies of your bedroom later.” 

Now it was Nate’s turn to make a face, and swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. “After that visual, I don’t even think I could eat my favorite food, so there’s no worry there,” he said, and Jason chuckled, nodding. 

“Which is?” Jason asked, and when Nate frowned in confusion, Jason elaborated. “Your favorite food. What is it?” 

“Oh,” Nate laughed, and thought about it for a moment. “Probably my mom’s homemade blueberry pie. Anything blueberry is ace, though, really.”

“Not blue raspberry?” Jason asked, a teasing smirk on his face. Nate grinned and bumped Jason’s shoulder with his own. 

“That’s not even a real flavor, bonehead,” Nate laughed, and Jason joined in.


End file.
